


The Most Unwizardly Wizard

by Tharhi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-14
Updated: 2011-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tharhi/pseuds/Tharhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Arthur saw Dumbledore, +1 time Dumbledore saw Arthur told over the seven years Arthur is at Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Unwizardly Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite the week I wanted to get this up in, but Kyna wouldn't let me post it until she approved of it. Hopefully it's better for the wait.

**1\. First Meeting**

The older man was weird. Arthur’s mother would likely be upset to hear him say it, something about negative connotation, but it was true. He was wearing a badly designed blue dress, kept a messy beard, and didn’t seem to care about any of it.

After his mum opened the door, the two had talked briefly before she invited him in. At that, she sent Arthur upstairs. She was a bit silly if she actually thought he was going to leave her alone with the stranger. Rather, Arthur had dutifully gone upstairs, closed his door with enough force for it to be heard, and then dropped to the floor and crawled forward until he could peek into the living room where his mum and the stranger were talking.

He couldn’t really hear them, but he caught the occasional word here and there, enough to know they were talking about him. _“Any trouble… fight… Arthur… last year… three… suspension…”_ Arthur scowled. Was the man from the police? If they were talking about the fight last year he did not start it nor did he set anyone’s backpack on fire, let alone the entire closet. And he was suspended last month unfairly - he was no where near the library when all the bookshelves collapsed.

“Arthur!”

At his mum’s voice, he immediately backed up. Glancing over his shoulder, Arthur debated the possibility of getting to his room unnoticed.

“Arthur!” His mum called again, voice closer. She was coming to the base of the stairs.

Arthur inched back to his room and opened the door, then stood. “Uh, yeah mum?”

“Professor Dumbledore would like to talk to you. Feel like coming downstairs?” She leaned against the railing, but there was no smile.

“Of course,” Arthur replied, but hesitated long enough for his mother to grow concerned.

She met him at the top of the stairs, “Arthur, are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course mum. But…” Arthur looked around her in the direction of the living room. Standing, the ceiling blocked his view of the room. “I’m not in trouble right? He’s not going to take me away from you, is he?”

“Oh Arthur, whatever gave you that impression?” She tugged him close into a hug, murmuring into his hair, “You’re not in trouble, in fact, Professor Dumbledore might be able to answer a couple of your questions. I would never invite you into danger.”

Arthur nodded, hugging tight before letting go and grinning, pushing away the nerves, “Well then, we shouldn’t leave him waiting. Should I get us some tea?”

His mother smiled back, “We both can. Come on.”

It didn’t take them long, and upon reentering the room, Dumbledore smiled. “Ah, that looks wonderful Ygraine, Arthur. Thank you.” He accepted a cup and added three cubes of sugar. A quick stir and he was leaning back in the sole chair of the room, taking a sip.

Arthur sat next to his mum on the couch. “Mum says you want to talk to me?”

Professor Dumbledore nodded, lowering his tea cup, “Yes, I did. You are in a rather special position Arthur. As I explained to your mother, you have the ability to do magic.” Dumbledore paused, but Arthur didn’t ask anything. Instead, he looked to his mother to see her nod. She was observing closely, but whatever her opinion was, she felt he needed to hear this. Once Arthur’s attention was back on Dumbledore, he continued, “Unfortunately, you have a rather unique exhibition of magic, young Arthur. I am sure by now you have noticed the terrible luck that seems to follow you, the damage and destruction, the pain and violence?”

Arthur sat back in the couch, cuddling into his mum’s side when she wrapped an arm around him. “I- I have never done anything to cause that.” But his mind went back to what his mum and Dumbledore must have been discussing before.

Dumbledore sighed and leaned forward, “The backpacks, the bullies, the library? That was you Arthur, even if you weren’t aware of it. Children lack control, that is the reason my school exists.” As Arthur reluctantly nodded, Dumbledore leaned back into his chair with a single nod. “You have two choices before you now Arthur. Despite the violent presentation of your magic, you do not have that strong of a gift for it, leaving it quite curious indeed how it is able to manifest so strongly. But this weakness means that we could cut off your gift permanently. It could be locked down so tightly another would never come to harm by it.”

Arthur sat up a bit at this, “And the other?”

Dumbledore smiled, his wrinkles crinkling, “You could come to my school, Hogwarts. It is the finest establishment of magical teaching in the world. I would like to warn you, young Arthur, that choosing this path would not be an easy one. If we were to lock down your magic, you could continue life as normal living with your mother. To come to Hogwarts would be to face seven harsh years of struggling not only to control your gift, but to keep up with the school work. As I have said, your magical gift itself is rather weak, which could prove to make schooling difficult. And there is also the other children,” Dumbledore gave a small, if sad, smile here, “As much as I dearly love them, children can be quite hard on those who are different. And you, Arthur, would be very different indeed.”

“I… I’m not quite sure what to say,” Arthur admitted. “I don’t really understand. Do students normally get to chose?”

“No,” Dumbledore said easily, “Like I said, you are in a special situation. As even with training you are likely to be nothing more than a squib, there are those in my world who would tie off your magic with you none the wiser. But I believe you have the right to choose.”

“Squib?” His mum asked before Arthur could say a thing, still trapped in the thought his magic was dangerous.

“A person born of magical parents that lack magic themselves. They may be able to see through muggle - non-magical - repellant charms,” Arthur darted a look at his mother in time to see the tightening of her lips, he knew she wouldn’t approve of the title for the charms. Dumbledore continued as if he never noticed, and Arthur wasn’t sure he did, “and produce potions, but they rarely call wands and are almost never able to do spells.”

“I… I- if there is the possibility for it I can’t say no, can I?” Arthur finally said. “Control is better than hoping a lock will work. And even if it is hard,” he glanced at his mother, at her small smile as she looked down into her tea cup, “that’s no excuse.”

With his choice made, his mother stepped in, “Would it be alright if I ask some questions?”

“Of course, I realize this must be very sudden,” Dumbledore said.

She nodded, “Very. I suppose my questions concern that of any parent asking of an unknown school.” Arthur stopped listening. He was actually going to do it - he was going to learn magic.

 

**2\. Second Week**

Professor Dumbledore was wearing the same robe as when Arthur first learned of the magical world. It was just as brilliant blue in his office as it had been in Arthur’s living room. Now that he wasn’t distracted with learning about magic, Arthur could make out faint patterns on the sleeves. Maybe of frogs? Whatever it was, it certainly didn’t match Dumbledore’s hat which was purple with black stars all over it. Why would anyone even own a hat like that?

Arthur’s attempt to focus on Dumbledore’s outfit failed as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. He took a deep breath to hold them back, only to hunch over as pain reinserted itself.

“Do you need Madam Pomfrey?” Dumbledore asked, voice as kind as the first time they met.

Arthur said nothing, straightening again and resolving not to show anymore pain. He had been warned it would be difficult, but he wasn’t expecting it all to go wrong so soon.

Dumbledore sighed, “Arthur, I understand teasing can be difficult, but that is no reason to start a brawl in the Great Hall-”

“It wasn’t about teasing!” Arthur interrupted, angry. Dumbledore hadn’t even asked him to explain, but as Dumbledore kept quiet, Arthur continued, “It wasn’t. I mean, everyone knows I’m having trouble already, but it’s not like they realize why.”

“Then why?”

“My father is not a coward, he did not run away from us, he didn’t cheat on my mum, and he wasn’t scared of magic!” Arthur said, tears finally escaping. “He was a hero. He died saving people and no one has any right to say anything bad about him. You were right, the kids here are awful!”

Dumbledore said nothing, waiting for Arthur to stop gasping for breath between the words and tears. Waiting for Arthur to calm. “Perhaps you can tell me exactly what happened?”

Rubbing at his face, Arthur nodded, “I guess.” It was what he wanted, to explain. Looking at the ground, he began. “Everyone’s still trying to get to know each other, you know? Two weeks of classes and people are kinda settling in. I’ve always stayed quiet when people asked about heritage because I don’t have anything to say.” Arthur shrugged, throat sore from holding back sobs. “It’s not like I’m ashamed, just, it doesn’t really matter. Today Tommy seemed to feel different and he kept bothering me until I finally just told them my mum was a muggle and shrugged about my father. Then he started making fun of my dad and so I told him my dad was a hero and he laughed! I tried to explain but someone else laughed too and said I didn’t have to lie and then Tommy said it was stupid to defend a coward and that’s when I hit him.”

Arthur paused to calm down again, feeling the anger and hurt rising. He looked directly at Dumbledore, “My father _was_ a hero, he died protecting people and the Queen recognized that and gave him the highest honor possible. And they all just made fun of him. Someone, someone even said ‘oh, some laddie Georgie thought to give him a cross.’ How could I not do something?”

“Perhaps you should explain to them,” Dumbledore said, voice even and reasonable as he tried to help, “Professor McGonagall is currently giving them a lecture in the Gryffindor common room while we talk here, when you return, they will be more receptive to anything you have to say.”

Arthur waited a moment to hear the apologies about his father’s death or any remark about the honor he earned, but Dumbledore just watched him calmly. As Arthur sat there in silence, he wondered if Dumbledore even noticed him, or would he forget about everything once he left the office. It reminded him just how far away from home he really was.

As nothing was said, Arthur stood, “I guess I can do that.” Once he reached the door he turned around, “Sir, are you even going to punish them? If only because they used magic, out of class, on me?”

Dumbledore smiled, “You attacked and held off seven students before one turned to magic. Madam Pomfrey had to make rounds to heal students before McGonagall could give her lecture. Yet I’m not punishing you.” It was pointed out delicately, as if he should have already realized the point he was trying to make - that Arthur was the one who started the fight and did the most damage.

“Anyone can defend against a physical attack, but I can’t defend against magical.” Arthur muttered, turning and leaving.

The entire way back to the Gryffindor Tower he tried to figure out what to say. The conversation in Dumbledore’s office didn’t exactly go as he had wanted. Worse, Dumbledore wasn’t the grandfather figure with advice he wanted like Arthur had assumed when he got on the train to come here. Walking through the portrait, Arthur realized he still had no idea what to say as everyone turned to stare at him. Conversations petered out and the atmosphere became tense.

Looking at them, Arthur couldn’t tell if they were scared or annoyed or confused. Most of them probably had no idea what went wrong. Frowning, Arthur tried his best to explain, “The George Cross is only awarded for acts of the greatest heroism or for courage in the circumstances of extreme danger. It is the highest civilian honor given in our country.” That was in the speech the day his mother accepted the award on behalf of his father and Arthur had made sure to memorize every word. A small part of him wondered if they’d even notice the fact he said ‘our country,’ wizards didn’t seem to realize there was even a world beyond magic. Anger over their willful ignorance gave his next words a sharp edge, “My father was awarded it posthumously after saving 23 lives.” He looked at every person in the room, uncaring of the long, awkward pause it caused. No one dared to say anything.

He walked through the room, careful not to touch anyone. At the base of the stairs he turned to see everyone still watching him, “I will slaughter the next person who insults my father, no matter the consequences. He was a great man and I will not accept any slandering of his name.”

Once in his room, Arthur got into bed fully clothed and closed the curtain. He muffled his tears with his pillow and wished for his mum.

 

**3\. Third Year**

It’s been over two years since his last meeting with Dumbledore, which had suited Arthur just fine. He hadn’t really been happy with how that meeting had turned out, but he was old enough now to realize it was probably his anger at his fellow students and situation transferred to Dumbledore.

He wasn’t angry because Dumbledore was biased in favor of magic.

Probably.

Okay, maybe he was angry for how Dumbledore handled the situation, but like his mum told him, Dumbledore went out of his way to help Arthur come to Hogwarts, he had a lot of students to watch out for, and Arthur had held his own in the fight just fine. Which was true, Arthur didn’t need anyone coming to his defense. In fact, Arthur went out of his way to keep an eye on new students for the past year and a half. Last year, with Neville, Arthur felt a kinship and did his best to help the kid. This year, despite the fact Neville was now a second year and better than Arthur at performing magic, they still met up for Arthur to tutor him once a week.

But he still felt a faint stirring of irritation when staring at Dumbledore’s stupid brilliant blue robe.

“Arthur, I would like for you to tell Professor Dumbledore what you told me,” McGonagall said, standing behind her desk back straight and voice prim. When he had first called this meeting she had been relaxed and interested, but had quickly bustled off to retrieve Dumbeldore in a huff.

Arthur nodded, “Of course Professor McGonagall.” For all he found himself annoyed with Dumbledore, he still respected him as much as he did McGonagall so he told his story as seriously possible, “I believe Hogwarts helped me to cheat on my mid-year Transfiguration test. I’ve been practicing since September when she introduced Switching spells and the best I could do was sometimes getting the color switched. During the test, the tea cup was changed perfectly into a mini-keyboard.” Arthur frowned, “I wasn’t even trying to switch to a keyboard.”

Dumbledore, standing besides McGonagall’s desk, shared a glance with McGonagall. “I’m not quite sure why this matters,” he mused, “As decided in your first year, actually performing magic will not affect the outcome of your grade. You must only show a clear and full understanding of the theory behind the lesson and spells.”

“Because I shouldn’t be able to do it and it did affect my grade!” Arthur said, rising from his seat, “My paper was returned with an A, but she gave me an O for the test due to the switching. How does an acceptable essay give me an outstanding?”

“Sit down Arthur,” McGonagall said sharply, ever the teacher. At her words, Arthur sat and she followed suit settling into her own chair. She patted down her robes, smoothing out wrinkles and removing dust tufts to give them both a momentary reprieve before speaking, “There is no reason to get mad over what is a fortunate situation for you. Highly unusual as it might be, you did earn that grade. I was keeping a lookout for cheating throughout the entire test and detected nothing. In this situation, you may simply have to accept the better grade.”

Dumbledore nodded, adding, “I can understand why you’re upset Arthur. You’re magic is unpredictable, sometimes working yet mostly failing you. In this situation, it allowed you to perform for the test despite failing you all year. While frustrating, you must remind yourself of the control you have gained in the past two and a half years at Hogwarts. I don’t believe your magic has been disruptive at all since your arrival.”

At his words, McGonagall seemed to relax. A reasonable explanation was all it took, which Arthur felt was unfair because neither of them seemed to understand the problem here. He hadn’t done anything, he had barely even waved his wand during the test. A sense of failure swept over Arthur as he realized nothing he said would change their minds. Instead, he tried to smile, nodding to McGonagall, “Thank you then. I’ll, I should get back to packing for the holidays then.”

As they both said goodbye, Arthur left trying to figure out what to do if it happened again on a test.

As if feeling his negative mood, a wall melted into an entrance to his left. Arthur stopped and looked around, but the hallway was empty. This wasn’t the first time this happened either. If he ever just seemed to be wondering alone Hogwarts would lead him on a merry chase to cheer him up.

“No,” Arthur grumbled, “I’m angry at you.”

He kept walking, listening as the stone tumbled back into place behind him.

 

**4\. Fifth Year**

Arthur paced in front of Dumbledore’s desk, waiting for him to arrive and ignoring Professor McGonagall’s disapproving glare.

“Sit down Arthur, Dumbledore is likely to be awhile yet. He is very busy with everything that has happened lately.” McGonagall said, sharp as ever.

Pausing, Arthur put a hand on the back of the chair he should be sitting in. He bounced back on his heels and then started picking at the fabric, mind focused on understanding exactly what happened yesterday.

“Perhaps if you just told me what you wanted…” McGonagall tried, sounding tired. The edge was finally gone.

Arthur immediately felt bad. It wasn’t like the past 24 hours hadn’t been Hell for her too. Potter was in her house and so her responsibility. She might have even already had this conversation with Dumbledore. Turning to her, he figured he might as well sound out his argument with her when Dumbledore walked in.

Arthur’s tension snapped back, “Professor Dumbledore-”

“One second please,” Dumbledore asked, “At least let me sit down. It has been a very long morning and breakfast is barely finished.”

As he had no other choice, Arthur stood and watched Dumbledore cross behind to his chair and collapse into it. Dumbledore looked up with a faint smile, “It is days like these that cause me to feel my age. Now Arthur, if you don’t mind, what exactly brings you here today?”

“Harry Potter-” Arthur barely began before McGonagall bit out, “Arthur!” and Dumbledore waved for silence from both.

“You as well? I understand students are unhappy with his name being called, but please be assured, we did check the goblet. Harry Potter did not cheat or magic the goblet. He will be competing fair and square.” Dumbledore said, the words rolling off his tongue with weary familiarity.

Arthur moved to sit in his chair, allowing him to be closer to Dumbledore and trying to appear more relaxed. “You misunderstand me. I think it unprofessional that you allow a student under seventh year to participate, but you already made yourself clear last night,” Arthur said, talking louder when both appeared to prepare for talking. “I’m here to ask how you’re going to prepare Harry. He’s lacking the experience his competitors will have and the knowledge. If you have no other plan, I’m willing to tutor Harry-”

Anything else he wanted to say was stopped by the laughter. Arthur leaned back in shock as Dumbledore continued to laugh, whole body shaking. “My dear boy, I understand the spirit in which the offer is made, but stand assured that Harry has a much better grasp of magic than you do. And besides, while I can understand your worry, it would be unfair to the other participants to give Harry a tutor unless they all receive one.”

“Dumbledore,” McGonagall said, her voice faint but still the bark that made students jump, “I understand you’re tired but surely there are better ways to handle this.”

McGonagall continued speaking, but Arthur heard none of it. For a second, Arthur had no idea what to do. For all his imagined reactions, being laughed out was not one of them. Standing abruptly, interrupting McGonagall, anger took over and Arthur snarled, “The problem with you wizards is that you’re so obsessed with magic you ignore everything else! You said no one under seventh year for fear of death and yet here’s Harry, only 14, and you laugh it off. There’s more to this world than magic!”

Leaving, he knew once McGonagall found him he’d be in trouble. He probably already cost his house points. But the only thing on his mind as he left Dumbledore’s office was how humiliated he was. He was only trying to help - but to have it thrown in his face?

When Hogwarts opened up a passage, he took it without a second thought.

 

**5\. The Sword in the Stone**

Dinner tonight was mandatory. As students filled in eagerly, Arthur allowed himself to be pushed to the back corner of Gryffindor, furthest from the magically lengthened High Table. Once all the students were sitting, Dumbledore, in his brilliant blue robe once more, led the other teachers and guests into the Great Hall. The students fell quiet in awe as the famous wizards and witches walked past, twelve in all.

Rather than sitting, as the adults were content to do, Dumbledore came to a rest behind the sword in the stone. Looking around at all the students, his smile widened and he began his speech, “I am sure you are all quite curious about the Sword proclaimed to be Excalibur. We all know the legend, that whoever pulls this sword is the rightful king, and it would seem the Wizarding World has been honored to hold the reborn King.”

A cheer went up and Dumbledore looked very happy, the stress vanishing from his shoulders, “Quite exciting, isn’t it? For those who were not present,” a nod to the guests, “a month ago today our school was honored with a visit from someone who legend knows only as the Lady in the Lake. She spoke not a single word as she placed Excalibur in this stone pedestal. I know a couple students have already attempted to pull the sword and failed,” a couple laughs as friends shoved each other, Dumbledore watched them all with a smile, waiting patiently for them to settle down again before continuing, “but today we are honored to have with us the most revered wizards and witches of our age. Tonight, before dinner, they shall all try and pull the sword. But if they shall fail, after dinner, I encourage every student to try.” Another cheer went up and Arthur tried to hunch down in his seat. He could imagine the jeers from Slytherins if he tried to approach the sword.

Once Dumbledore stepped back and called his first guest down, some impossible to pronounce Russian name, Arthur turned his back on the attempt. Rather, he turned his attention to the entrance of the Great Hall - he could still remember them being thrown open. The figure had been unfamiliar to all, a female in a torn red dress, unbrushed hair and pale skin, with a beautiful sword held reverently before her. The Hall had been quiet enough to hear the soft slapping of bare feet and the dripping of water from drenched dress and tangled hair. Arthur had only caught a glimpse through the crowd, but the straightness of her back, the proud tilt of her head, and the sharpness of her eyes were impossible to forget.

The Lady of the Lake had crossed the Great Hall unchallenged, coming to a stop where the Sorting Hat’s stool had been taken away moments before in preparation for Dumbledore’s beginning of the year speech. Without looking around, she held the sword high and plunged it into the ground.

Only that wasn’t quite right.

It was more that the ground rose to meet the sword. Surging up and forming a pedestal around the sword. The Lady stepped back and sent a single glance across the students. Uninhibited, she left as quickly and efficiently as she appeared. It wasn’t until the doors closed that the professors jumped to action-

“While my dear friends are deeply disappointed and were quite unable to enjoy the meal as they regularly would, I am sure that you all have been anticipating this moment since the sword appeared.” Cheers greeted Dumbledore’s words, and Arthur turned to see him once more standing behind the sword in the stone. “To begin the students turn, I would like to invite Harry Potter be the first student to officially try for the sword.”

Everyone’s attention turned to Harry, who laughed and shook his head, “I have enough on my plate professor! Perhaps if no one else is able, I’ll give it a try.” Despite his words, as Dumbledore opened the floor and students started to line up, Harry sat as near the sword as he could with an intent look in his eyes. Arthur, in the furtherest and abandoned back corner but now aware once more of the present, kept track of what was happening from the cheers and booing of the students. While he had no care for the famous guests of Dumbledore’s, the students he at least knew.

He was left half-heartedly picking at his pie as he tried to work up the famous Gryffindor courage. He had to at least try and pull the sword, what would his mother say if he didn’t? Amongst all the other students attempting Arthur would likely go unnoticed, but there was a dread he felt surrounding the act that no one else seemed to share. The sword wasn’t just about power and celebration, as everyone here seemed to think. That sword had created a nation through being used - through cutting down foes and intimidating enemies. For it to show up now? With Voldemort’s power rising every year and the light’s seemingly failing, Arthur didn’t envy whoever eventually pulled the sword.

Considering the dark future Arthur saw for it, he couldn’t help but wonder why it appeared at Hogwarts. Was it for some first year yet to arrive? Was it for Harry Potter, as rumors had all but confirmed over the last month. Despite urging, Harry hadn’t touched the sword, though he was always watching it.

With a sudden pulse of jealously, Arthur stood and found his move matched by Harry Potter. Holding back, jealously boiling, Arthur watched as Harry finally approached Excalibur with a shove from Ron. Harry stumbled, then fixed his glasses. Determination seemed to radiate out as he grasped the handle. Arthur became aware of holding his breath and immediately forced himself to breathe normally. As Harry went to lift, Arthur turned and walked out of the hall, feigning disinterest but unable to ignore the pain.

Arthur was hidden in a secret passage before the student’s reaction could tell him if Harry was successful.

 

**+1. Arthur.**

After the first student, a second year from Ravenclaw, had to be sent to Madam Pomfrey due to injury from Excalibur, Severus had recommended a night ward around the sword. A simple speech and dinner became the only acceptable time to try and pull the sword.

The damn sword caused so much more trouble than it promised worth.

Albus had honestly expected Harry to pull the sword, his role in the prophecy to kill Voldemort screamed of King Arthur’s role. Instead, an entire school year gone and the sword still sits locked within the pedestal. Albus couldn’t think of a single student who hadn’t tried to pull it at least once, and many tried twice if not more.

Tomorrow, he and Harry would be hunting down a horocrox. Albus expected he would be dead within the week. His last wish, seeing King Arthur reborn and realized, was likely never to be fulfilled. Rather disappointing, that.

A chirping from his wand brought raised eyebrows, after Christmas the fever had calmed down and there hadn’t been a single tripping of the ward. Silencing it, Albus rose from behind his desk and headed to the Great hall, trying to figure out which student was trying. Probably a seventh year, realizing that this was their last chance to at least try. Honestly, he had expected an attempt last week and when none came, assumed the students had grown bored with the sword.

As the Great Hall grew nearer, Albus set a silencing spell around him and took a passage way to allow him in by one of the alcoves surrounding the hall. It would be interesting to see what the student was attempting before interrupting them.

What he found, upon arrival, was the last thing he expected.

Arthur Pendragon, and hadn’t quite the rumor started around him at the beginning of the year though his magical skill quickly ended it, was standing quietly in front of the sword. He was close enough to trigger the wards, but didn’t appear to have tried touching it.

How curious. No other student had showed such restraint. Most looking and cursing the sword only after failing the attempt to pull it.

Albus took the chance to study his student. It had been a long seven years. He could still remember the peeking eyes and small form when he visited Arthur’s home. He had seemed so fragile and terrified, but Arthur’s eyes - oh, his eyes had been quite serious. They carried the same intensity now, staring at Excalibur, as they had staring at the strange wizard in his living room. Arthur’s will had carried him very far, much further than Albus had expected it to.

Though often into trouble. Arthur had the honor of being the first child of the year in his office for that fight his first year here. An unusual reaction at a wizarding school, to get into a fist fight. Albus had been trying so hard not to chuckle at how earnest Arthur was as he explained the fight. Afterwards, he had tried to keep an eye on Arthur, worried that he would continue having trouble fitting in but Arthur seemed determined to move beyond it. Rather than draw extra attention to Arthur’s situation, Albus allowed Arthur to put a distance between them and lost track of the boy.

Perhaps that had been a mistake. It was what, three or four years - ah, four years ago, Ginny Weasley had gone missing that year. Four years ago Arthur had been convinced that Hogwarts was performing magic for him. If Albus had invited him up for every month to explain the situation, to review his magic and what was happening, such a horrible situation could have been completely avoided. Still, a child trying to figure out their magic always came up with the most extraordinary explanations for it and Albus had to approve in the ingenious and courage it took Arthur to confront Minerva about it.

And the courage it took confronting Albus when he allowed Harry to compete two years ago. Albus was old enough to recognize his faults. He never should have laughed, Arthur had only been trying to help-

Arthur took a step forward. Albus started but caught himself as Arthur did nothing else. His bones protested and Albus realized that he had been standing there watching the boy for nearly half an hour.

Perhaps it was time for him to leave. Arthur, the poor boy, didn’t seem to have the courage to try and pull the sword. Maybe he was hoping to avoid the night warding all the students had been warned of-

A soft ringing like that of chimes focused Albus’s attention on the sword, fully out of the stone pedestal and held aloft in Arthur’s hand.

Arthur was, for all intents and purposes, a squib. That he was the one to pull the sword? It was so disappointing Albus wouldn't be around long enough to watch the media fallout. The ministry had been crowing about Excalibur appearing in Hogwarts for the past nine months, the superiority of wizards to have Arthur reborn amongst them - only he hadn’t been. Arthur, and wonderful how his mother seemed to know what to name him, was likely the least wizardly of any wizard.

A chill swept Hogwarts, then the walls rippled. Looking up, Albus caught the masterpiece of Hogwart’s ceiling finish fading from a night sky to shadowed stone and the distant echo of clanking armors stopped - the true silence startling. Trying to tap into the wards as Headmaster, Albus felt a terror he hadn’t felt since the first time he had taught a class - the magic of Hogwarts was fading.

A mist seemed to pour out from the walls and floors and began to pool behind Arthur. Whatever had happened was tied to the sword, which Arthur was staring at oblivious to everything happening behind him. Stepping forward to protect his student, Albus was stalled when Arthur pivoted, sword raised to attack. Arthur seemed to hesitate, then dropped the sword to watch the mist gather into the shape of a young man. A rather skinny, gangly young man who had a goofy smile and outdated outfit of brown pants, a faded blue shirt, and a red handkerchief around his neck.

Albus rested his hand against the wall to steady himself and froze at the lack of feeling from the wall. It wasn’t just the blatant magic or outward expression of Hogwart’s that had faded to form this man, but the very life of it. The lively, spirited castle was now nothing more than a collection of stone and age.

Arthur didn’t seem to care or notice, attention focused purely on the man directly before him. “I… know you,” Arthur stated, voice ringing clear in the empty hall though he lacked confidence in his words.

“Yes, and no,” the man said, a chuckle following his words. Where Arthur was cautious and tentative, he was bold and at ease. “Truthfully, I don’t know how to answer that question.”

Albus couldn’t see Arthur’s face, but could hear the scowl in his voice when he replied, “That’s not a very useful answer. Well, I’m Arthur-”

“Arthur Pendragon, seventh year Gryffindor who is terrible at magic. Yes, I know.”

“But how-” Arthur cut himself off, and the man smiled wide, “You’re the one who’s been watching out for me all these years, haven’t you?”

“Yes, yes I have.”

“That’s rather creepy.” The stranger seemed to droop at Arthur’s words, but Arthur continued undeterred, “Are you Hogwarts?” 

“No, well, I became Hogwarts I suppose. I didn’t mean too, but life was so long and I, well, they were doing a good thing here and I was only trying to help set some wards when I feel asleep.” The man looked down and scuffed his toe against the stone, “I didn’t mean to become Hogwarts, a bit embarrassing actually.”

There was silence. Albus wondered if he should step forward and reveal himself when Arthur spoke again, “Are you planning to tell me who you actually are?”

“Oh,” the stranger said, blushing, “I figured you knew already. I mean, I wasn’t fully aware but this is a place of learning and I didn’t have to tune in often to hear they still knew about me.” Albus could feel the blood rushing through his head, a bit faint, as he realized exactly who this man was. “I’m Merlin,” he held out his hand to shake and dropped it when Arthur awkwardly held up his sword. “Right, right. Bit silly of me there I suppose.”

Merlin grinned again, despite Arthur’s uneasy silence, “I’ve waited so long for this. You know, this isn’t the first time you’ve been reborn.”

His words seemed to shock Arthur out of his silence, though it froze Albus. “Huh, no. Err… I didn’t know that. I don’t really remember it.”

“I don’t suppose you would,” Merlin said, bringing an uneasy silence to them once more. To break it, Merlin dropped to one knee before Arthur though he was still staring at Arthur with adoration.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, discomfort obvious from his tone, “In this day and age we don’t kneel to people.” After helping Merlin to stand again, using his left hand, Arthur stepped back, “I’m not exactly your Arthur you know, whatever it is you were expecting.”

Merlin’s looked softened, “That’s alright, I’m no longer his Merlin.” Arthur must have made some expression, because Merlin continued, voice more serious than it had been all night. “No, you’re right. You are not him in memories, nor are you in habit. But you are King Arthur, the same in thought, action, and deed and that is all I need. I do not wish to replace him or you. Perhaps, if asked a hundred years ago my answer would have been different, but seven years ago I met a young child unwilling to bow before tradition who was willing to stand for what he believed right.” Merlin took a step closer and his voice was softer as he finished, “And I would fight the world for him. Just as he shall fight to reunite Albion once more.”

Further words must have been exchanged, but Albus could hear none of it and was too lost in his thoughts to be bothered by it. He was still trying to understand everything - the squib student Arthur becoming the Once and Future King - when Merlin looked directly at him.

“As for Hogwarts, I have an answer for that.” Merlin said, “Albus, please, come forward.”

Arthur started, following Merlin’s gaze to where Albus slowly stepped into the light. “Professor Dumbledore? I-”

“It’s alright child,” Albus said soothingly, though he supposed child was inappropriate when Arthur stood holding Excalibur. “I had placed a ward around the sword to insure no student hurt themselves. But Merlin, you have a solution for the draining of life from Hogwarts?”

Merlin nodded, “Hogwarts was never anything more than stone. Each was placed with hope, love, and a wish for a better future from all four founders, but there was never the spark that you know it by now. Now that King Arthur is back and I’m fully awake, I have no desire to return to the walls of Hogwarts.”

“Then what were you planning?” Albus asked, interested, “Magic lacks the vitality it had when Hogwarts was built, and if the founders could not spell it to life, than I am doubtful there is anything I or anyone living could do.”

“For Hogwarts to live, it needs a human’s life to sustain it.” Merlin said. “I was Hogwarts, and these past seven years I have become more and more aware. Your plans have come to my attention.”

Though his words were heavy, Albus could feel no judgement. “And…?”

Merlin nodded, face lacking the mirth from his earlier conversation, “As long as it happens on Hogwart’s grounds, I can set it such that you will take the place I had.”

Albus already knew he was going to accept, with such an offer on the board he would be stupid not to, but he held his silence curious as to how Arthur would react. He was still trying to figure out what exactly made Arthur capable of pulling the sword and what he had done in his years here to earn the devotion of a man so powerful he _accidentally_ became a castle?

As Albus allowed the silence to drag out, Merlin’s eyes intent on him, Arthur remained still. Rather than be forced into action by awkward silence, Arthur held his peace and composure unbothered by a conversation he couldn’t fully understand. He didn’t try to smile or let the light catch his eyes so as to appear to know what he did not. Albus finally tore his eyes away to look at Merlin once more, “For such a generous offer, how can I refuse? It is a dream come true for an old man like me.”

Merlin smiled and Albus’s age was heavy on his shoulders. For seven years all Albus had seen when looking at Arthur was a lack of self-confidence and the squib he would one day be known as. It seemed, somewhere during that time, Arthur had found his own path.

Arthur had been his student for seven years, yet Albus had no idea who he was.

**Author's Note:**

> I like learning about writing processes, so some of what went into writing this story can be found on my LJ at this entry [ here](http://ldrofscrats.livejournal.com/12985.html). None of it is vital or important to the story.


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